Locked (Savage Men 2)

It probably is. I don’t want to scare her away again.

Not that she could run … she’s still tied up.

I’m not sure I should untie her yet. What if she runs? What if she tries to kill me? I’d understand if she wanted to. After all, I’m the man who ruined her chances to go home.

But then why do I get this feeling she doesn’t even mind being around me anymore?

She likes me despite wanting to hate me all the same.

Guess we’ll just have to deal with being complete opposites.

“Better?” I ask, as I don’t know if I made the right decision by crawling in the same bed.

A soft, almost inaudible moan escapes her mouth.

“Better.”

But I heard it.

I definitely heard it.

Chapter Twelve

Accompanying Song: “Muddy Waters” by LP

Juliet

For days now, I’ve been trying to put him out of my head, but it’s proving more difficult than I thought. I’m still amazed he actually built a second bed so he wouldn’t have to bother me by lying next to me.

It’s nice, but … there are animals in this jungle. And I’m all tied up and can’t defend myself.

So I succumbed to my own fear and asked him to come into my bed again. Well, implied… asked is a strong word. I don’t like to admit I need him for anything, let alone that I feel safe around him.

I shouldn’t feel anywhere near safe. He’s a savage who gets off on trapping a girl, yet I can’t stop this heart of mine from beating faster and faster the closer he gets.

Goddammit.

I can’t even stop looking into his eyes as he pushes berry after berry in my mouth in the morning. His smile is mesmerizing, but his eyes … they’re to die for. And I’m hopeless to fight it when he’s feeding me like this. He’s so proud of gathering them; I can’t help but feel for him. He’s really trying to be better, and I can appreciate that.

Especially when he’s putting so much care into laying the berries on my tongue until I suck.

I’m not sure he’s doing it to fill my stomach, though …

When he’s done, and I’ve swallowed the last berry, he says, “So are you going to behave today?”

“What do you mean?” I narrow my eyes.

He lifts my chin with one finger and says, “You know what I mean.”

“I won’t run away, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s not as if I have anywhere to go.”

“And you won’t try to lure in other people either?” He raises a brow.

I sigh. “Fine. I won’t start another fire. Happy now?”

A slow smirk spreads across his lips and makes me want to swoon. But it’s wrong, so wrong. I’m actually negotiating with my captor right now. And I don’t even mind. I just want to be free of this rope around my wrists.

“Good girl,” he says.

I practically melt into a puddle when he says that.

Great.

There I go again, letting myself get carried away by men I shouldn’t want. Men who aren’t good for me.

Yet I can’t help myself when he looks at me the way he does. So … full of lust.

Or maybe that’s just my own reflection I’m seeing.

He unties the rope that keeps me in place, and I rub my wrists. I swallow away the lump in my throat as he smiles and grabs my hand. “I wanna show you something … Come.”

I almost moan when he says that word but manage to keep my mouth tightly locked.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he pulls me out of the hut.

“You’ll see soon. It’s a surprise.” He grabs a torch and lights it, then pulls me along.

Surprise? I never liked those. They always ended in either a party where everyone got drunk and trashed the house they were partying in, or with me in an emotional wreck after a heartbreak.

Yeah, I’ve had some bad experiences with past boyfriends. We’ve all had them.

“How far is it?” I ask as we go deeper into the jungle.

I don’t like it. The last time I went this deep, I was searching for the helicopter. And we both know how that ended.

“Not too far,” he says. “Follow me.”

He doesn’t let go of my hand for a second. Warmth flows through my body. With our fingers locked, my attention span has been reduced to one percent—which is solely focused on physical contact and how much I would love for those hands to touch my body.

Jesus Christ, Jules, get a hold of yourself.

We trod through the jungle until we get to a thick tree, at which point Lock abruptly stops and spins around.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

I frown, but then do as he asks.

He grabs both my hands and guides me through the jungle, and I carefully take steps forward, hoping I don’t tumble. He’s so gentle with me that it bewilders me. Why is he going through all this trouble just to show me something?